


First Aid

by daitsukki



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Aid, First Kiss, M/M, Short & Sweet, idk it's been a while guys, yamatsukki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-07-19 10:51:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7358269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daitsukki/pseuds/daitsukki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He laughed shakily, daubing the cut with iodine, watching Yamaguchi’s nose crinkle each time he made contact. He was close enough to see every freckle, the fan of Yamaguchi’s eyelashes, his bottom lip chapped where he constantly worried at it with his teeth. Tsukishima’s pulse was drumming and he hated it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tsukishima didn’t enjoy morning practice. It was literally still dark outside, everyone was already so _loud_ , and he spent most of it rolling his eyes and resisting the urge to barricade himself in the store cupboard. But still. It was volleyball. There was something about the pull and strain of muscle as he stretched for a block, pulse that would spike when the ball ricocheted off his palm and slammed into the floor. That, and Yamaguchi’s bed head was always worth seeing. Dark waves in bird’s nest disarray, they tumbled in front of his eyes in way that made Tsukishima want to reach out and carefully brush them away, before he quickly reminded himself how gross that would be.

Anyway.

Morning practice always sucked. But today was something else altogether.

-

The ball hit Yamaguchi square in the face; the noise it made echoed around the gym like the crack of a whip, cutting through the chaos of squeaks and thuds of sneakers on linoleum, and Tsukishima caught Yamaguchi’s forearm as he staggered backward. His hand hid his face, breath coming in small puffs, and Tsukishima shook his arm gently.

“You okay? Yamaguchi!”

The other boy slowly blinked up at him. Blood was seeping from a small gash just above his eyebrow, already trailing a neat path down to his chin, and Tsukishima suppressed a flinch. “Shit.”

“I’m… fine! Just a bruise I think. I’m fine right? Tsukki?”

Tsukishima eyed him cautiously as a shrieking Hinata came scrambling from under the net.

“Oh my God Yamaguchi, your face! I’m so sorry! My spike did that?! OH MY GOD.” he flapped agitatedly at Yamaguchi’s side, and Tsukishima gritted his teeth. They’d been dismantling the last of the nets when that orange dumbass had bounded up to them and asked them to help him and Kageyama practice their new quick just one more time before the bell rang- the pair had been even more irritatingly buoyant than usual having finally mastered the move during training camp, and spent every spare moment badgering their team members to try blocking it. Yamaguchi agreed, and since Tsukishima now had the option of either going to class alone or willingly helping out a teammate, he chose the lesser of two evils. And it wasn’t exactly paying off.

The rest of the team was forming a cluster around them, and Sawamura had to pry Hinata away before examining Yamaguchi’s face with a critical eye. Kageyama, part of the guilty party as far as Tsukishima was concerned, hovered over the captain’s shoulder, grimacing. He realised he was still gripping Yamaguchi’s arm, not wanting to lose him to the fray of concerned faces around them when Yamaguchi absently patted his hand. His fingers constricted.

“Should we call the coach? That’s… that’s a lot of blood.” someone choked from the edge of the frantic circle; someone else muttered that they should call an ambulance instead. Yamaguchi vehemently tried to reassure everyone that he was fine, no really he was _fine_ , while Sawamura hummed thoughtfully.

“It doesn’t look deep actually. Head wounds just bleed a lot, we should get something to put on it for now.” Sugawara appeared at his shoulder murmuring sympathetically, and handed him a towel. He placed it gently against Yamaguchi’s forehead as the first year winced under his hand. “Just keep pressing, okay? Go to the nurse, Takeda-sensei and the coach are still talking to the principal about managing donations but they’ll be back soon, we’ll tell them what happened.”

“I’ll go and tell them now if you want.” Yachi piped up from somewhere behind Azumane, who was pale and pointedly looking anywhere but at the blood dripping from Yamaguchi’s face.

“I’ll take him.” Tsukishima said curtly. Everyone gawping like idiots while his friend basically bled out into a towel had his patience running thinner than usual, and it felt like he couldn’t get Yamaguchi to the gym doors fast enough.

“Will it be okay just the two of you?” asked Kageyama, nervously twirling the offending volleyball between his hands. Hinata, finally quiet, fidgeted in apologetic silence beside him. Tsukishima was already steering Yamaguchi through the doorway before he threw a reply over his shoulder.

“You want to see my medical license or something? We’re just going to the nurse’s office, the captain said it’s nothing major.”

“Could have fooled me. All that blood.” Azumane said quietly, and Nishinoya thumped him on the back in what he must have thought was a reassuring way, manic grin in place. They could hear Hinata calling out another apology as the doors clattered shut behind them, but then; the blissful silence of an empty courtyard. Tsukishima huffed out a short sigh and returned his attention to Yamaguchi, the weak morning light throwing the worst of the blood that had trickled onto his shirt into harsh relief. He figured he should say something reassuring. Friendly.

He should probably let go of Yamaguchi’s arm sometime soon too.

“You sure you’re okay? You look like crap.” Tsukishima offered. The other boy grinned and peeked up at him from under the towel.

“Yeah I’m fine. Really though! I mean, it kind of hurts but not too much.”

“Good. I was… um. It looked pretty bad. Like, Hinata’s microscopic and everything but that spike…”

“Yeah, the ball just coming at my face was the worst part! Thought it was going to break my nose or something.” They reached the steps leading up to the main school building and Tsukishima placed his other hand under Yamaguchi’s elbow to steady him. Yamaguchi smiled sheepishly as he groped for the wall with his free hand. “Sorry for making you do this Tsukki. It’s like they said, it’s probably a lot worse than it looks right?”

“Well, yeah. But you still got hurt. So don’t apologise, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I guess I’m just unlucky,” Yamaguchi’s voice echoed softly through the hall, eerily vacant because of how early it was. “Hinata gets hit all the time and he’s always fine.”

“He’s just an idiot,” Tsukishima scoffed. And no wonder he thought sourly, considering how many shots to the head Hinata had taken, the shrimp was a concussion waiting to happen. When they reached the nurse’s office, Tsukishima rapped on the door before turning the handle. The smell of antiseptic cut through the air and the nurse glanced up sharply from where she sat, pouring over a stack of decidedly official-looking papers at a desk in the corner.

“Morning, boys. Started early haven’t we?” she nodded at Yamaguchi and he offered her an awkward smile by way of reply. The nurse shook her head, tightening her bun with both hands as she rose and began to tap smartly around the room retrieving supplies from the gleaming cupboards. “You sports clubs really need to take it easy, it feels like I’m seeing at least one of you in here every day.”

“It’s not exactly on purpose though, Sensei.” Tsukishima said haltingly, polite as he could manage, and the nurse waved Yamaguchi to the cot as she sighed in his general direction. Tsukishima decided it was probably time to extract his hand from where it had been clamped around his friend’s forearm.

“Yes, but it wouldn’t hurt to be more careful, you know.” The crisp paper crackled under the smaller boy as he perched on the bed, and Tsukishima knotted his arms together leaning against the door frame. The nurse tilted Yamaguchi’s chin up with her free hand, tutting quietly before getting to work; Tsukishima cleared his throat, his chest twinging with an inexplicable something at her casual touch. Avoiding Yamaguchi’s quick side glance, he turned his attention to the nurse as she went on to clean and dress the cut, her movements quick and neat, talking as she worked. “You won’t need stitches thankfully but I’d recommend you take it easy for the rest of the day. I wouldn’t play any more games for the next few days either, take some pain killers if you need to, try not to keep the cut exposed for too long, and if you feel dizzy or nauseous at all, tell someone straight away. Alright? Now leave me your name and class number, and you should be good to go.” Tugging at her bun once more, she leaned back slightly to study the result.

Yamaguchi blinked a few times then nodded obediently, but Tsukishima saw the furrow between his brows at the mention of no volleyball and tried not to roll his eyes. Anyone else would have missed it, tiny as it was, but Tsukishima spent a lot of time looking at Yamaguchi (for very innocent, friend-type reasons) and was as close to an expert on his vast range of emotions as someone could get. Possibly knowledge worthy of a Masters degree, he thought bitterly to himself while Yamaguchi hopped off the cot and gave the nurse his details. She waved them both away as two members of the football club burst through the door in a decidedly dramatic fashion, one clutching his wrist, both streaked with dirt and sweat. Tsukishima hastily guided Yamaguchi around the pair and through the door as the nurse’s voice faded behind them, laced with chagrin.

“Busy morning I guess.” The smaller boy remarked, fingering the dressing on his forehead self-consciously. “The bell’s gonna ring pretty soon, we should go get changed.” Other students were starting to fill the corridor now, and yawns and greetings peppered the air as they made their way back across the courtyard. Tanaka and Nishinoya bounded up out of nowhere to ask how Yamaguchi was doing, and after a barrage of well-meaning but no less irritating claps on the back, Tsukishima was biting sarcasm down with heroic effort before extracting Yamaguchi and practically sprinting to changing rooms with him.

“No worries Yamaguchi, girls like scars! Just tell them you got it in a fight or something.” Tanaka whooped after them. Nishinoya snorted and pushed him from behind good-naturedly, and the ensuing scuffle was one Tsukishima was very glad to leave behind. Forcing the door of the empty changing room shut and leaning against it appreciatively, he sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. Yamaguchi laughed sunbeam light at his expression and tossed his school shirt at him from where it was draped over the bench.

“Come on Tsukki, we’ve only got a couple of minutes.” They pulled their jerseys off hurriedly, Tsukishima careful to avert his gaze away for reasons unknown, and sure enough the bell rang jarringly a few minutes later as Yamaguchi desperately tried to cover his forehead with his hair. The taller boy rolled his eyes at him in the mirror and grabbed the strap of his friend’s bag.

“You look gre- fine. You look fine. Leave it, we need to get to class.”

Yamaguchi sighed at his reflection and let Tsukishima lead him away, dolefully murmuring about how obvious the bandage was. Meanwhile, Tsukishima’s thoughts were a little stormy - his state of pathetic denial about certain _feelings_ was making itself abundantly clear today (ugh). Morning practice really was the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a year since the last time i posted a fic......... what can i say i've been busy with uni but yamatsuki still haunts me
> 
> still working on making tsukki less of an asshole than people usually portray him, he's tsundere af but he is a pure gay soul!! who knows where this will go but some first aid will be administered by the hands of our favourite megane that's for sure
> 
> feel free and welcome to drop me a line on tumblr @xageyama


	2. Chapter 2

After the Spike vs. Face incident (as Tanaka had apparently dubbed it), the day dragged itself along with agonising slowness. The original offender in question had found him and Yamaguchi in their classroom at lunch to offer up more garbled apologies, a shame-faced but thankfully silent Kageyama trailing after him. Yamaguchi nervously tried to assure Hinata that he was forgiven and was then prompted into repeating himself about twenty times; the exchange went on far too long for Tsukishima’s liking and eventually, he jammed his headphones on to signal his own involvement in the conversation (or lack of it). He rested his chin on his hands and clamped his eyes shut, hoping his desire for the freak duo to disappear would manifest itself physically at some point in the very near future- what he didn’t expect was a soft poke to his cheek and when his eyes snapped open, Yamaguchi’s face was only a couple of inches from his own, the white of the bandage stark against his inky hair.

“Morning, Tsukki.” He laughed as Tsukishima started suddenly and yanked his headphones off.

“Ever heard of personal space?” Tsukishima snapped. He tried to think of anything but how close Yamaguchi’s face had been, straightening his glasses to distract himself. Ever since training camp (and yelling at Tsukishima until he was literally blue in the face) his friend’s confidence had soared dramatically, which had been good for their personal dynamic but bad for Tsukishima’s blood pressure. Maybe karma was finally coming back round to bite him the ass- it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it. “Glad it’s finally a shrimp-free zone again. More of the same?”

“Yep,” Yamaguchi sighed, leaning back. “We’ll probably be in third year before he gets over it, I think.”

The taller boy scoffed on autopilot, eyeing Hinata’s orange fluff as it disappeared into the bustling crowd of the corridor. He wondered exasperatedly if there were any witnesses to the crack in his usually stony exterior.

“Wouldn’t be surprised. You know how obsessive he can be.” He was probably just imagining that his cheek was tingling too. The burst at the tip of a sparkler.

Yamaguchi hummed, blissfully unaware of his friend’s hands fisted under the desk, mouth dry. “It’s not exactly a bad thing, liking volleyball. _I_ do. And I know you do too, finally.” His grin was equal parts challenging and cherubic, and Tsukishima tried to keep his face deadpan while something inside him thrashed against his ribcage. He considered praying to some deity that the day could just end already so he could go home and angst about his ongoing gay crisis.

(It wasn’t the first time he’d thought this.)

After another check-in from the third years later during class, Sawamura and Sugawara cheery and sympathetic, Azumane visibly relieved at the lack of blood this time round, the final bell rang and it might as well have been a chorus of angels to Tsukishima’s ears. The captain had excused him from afternoon practice to walk Yamaguchi home (despite vehement protests on Yamaguchi’s part), and after watching the dark-haired boy fiddle sulkily with his bangs the entirety of last period, it looked like he still wasn’t too happy about it. He approached Tsukishima’s desk afterwards with less than his usual vigour and as they walked past the raucous gym, the furrow dug itself between his brows again. Tsukishima nudged him with his elbow as they were buffeted through the school gates, the stream of other students actually wanting to get home like most sane human beings.

“It’s one practice Yamaguchi, you won’t miss anything. You only need to sit out for a few days at the most.”

“I know that.” Yamaguchi pouted, and Tsukishima tried to quash a smirk. “But everyone’s making a big deal over nothing, it’s really not that bad!”

“Possible concussion isn’t exactly good either.”

“Aw not you too…”

“Let’s just get you home, invalid.”

“ ‘Invalid!’ ”

-

They bickered amiably as they made their way through the flower-clad streets, pleasantly cool in the shade despite occasional streams of sunlight. Time was passing unfairly again, but now too rapidly. They reached Yamaguchi’s house in what felt like a matter of seconds, and Tsukishima relived every cliche shoujo plotline he’d ever been subjected to when he thought a little painfully about how nice it would be if they hadn’t got there so fast. It was a familiar ache at this point.

“Thanks for walking me back, I guess. Even though it was totally unnecessary.” Yamaguchi squinted warmly up at him against the afternoon sun, his hair lazily caught by the breeze. The scene was practically rose-tinted and caught up in it all Tsukishima let slip a genuine grin, his chest bubbling with that inexplicable something again. The shorter boy’s eyes widened and his hand went reflexively to his forehead, toying with the dressing. “Tsukki?”

“…yeah?”

“Do you… do you want to come in?”

Tsukishima sighed. “Is it the English homework? I figured by the look on your face when we got given it that you were going ask at some point.”

“Yeah, sure… but I was thinking more like we could eat something. Watch a movie? I need to recuperate or whatever.”

“I thought you were fine?” Tsukishima raised his eyebrows and Yamaguchi beamed, if a touch sheepishly.

“Hey if I’m missing practice to rest, I might as well make the most of it.” He turned towards the house and after a beat, Tsukishima slowly started after him. Cool air wafted through the door as the boys let themselves in, followed by the the equally cool scent of lavender (the Yamaguchi household’s air freshener of choice), and as they toed their shoes off Yamaguchi called down the hall. “Mum?” The only reply was a slight echo of his own voice. “Huh. She’s out.”

“Car wasn’t in the driveway.” pointed out Tsukishima, neatly placing his shoes in line with the others at the entrance.

“Oh. Guess it’s just us then! Do you want to raid the kitchen first?”

Tsukishima nodded. “Yeah, if that’s okay.” Their socked footsteps sounded strange in the empty house, where Yamaguchi’s mother was usually singing old ballads with impressive enthusiasm or watching some gardening show on TV at full volume. Tsukishima wasn’t a fan of noise but Yamaguchi’s house was comforting, lively, and the silence now was a little unnerving. The door to the kitchen even slid open noiselessly, but as he started retrieving cutlery from the faded wooden cupboards Yamaguchi inevitably protested behind him.

“Tsukki I can carry a couple of plates, you’re the guest!”

“I’ve got it. Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Okay I take that back, some guest you are-“

“Just sit down, I’ll make tea.”

Yamaguchi huffed his way around the kitchen, shadowing the taller boy until he’d laid everything out on the table, but when he picked up the affably chipped tea pot from its spot on the counter, Yamaguchi’s hands shot out, covering his own firmly. Colour threatened an appearance on Tsukishima’s cheeks as he yanked his fingers away. “What is with you and _touching_ today??”

“Look, I can pour tea, this is just stupid-“

“ _Fine_ then, sue me for trying to do something nice. Just get on with it.” Tsukishima snapped, his hands in fists behind his back as he backed away to the table- his heart was starting to rise to a problematic and skittish rhythm. Yamaguchi, on the other hand, stilled.

“You’re trying to be nice to me?”

“…well, yeah. Don’t gawp at me like an idiot-“

“Are you trying to like, take care of me?”

“God, shut up, when you say it like that-”

“Thank you.” Tsukishima glanced quickly up from the floor tile he was glaring a hole through when an odd note crept into Yamaguchi’s voice. His friend was simply looking at him now, the tea pot an afterthought in his hands. His eyes were warmer than the afternoon sun. Tsukishima’s chest tightened. “Thanks, Tsukki. Really.”

“Whatever.” Tsukishima seated himself with more force than necessary and tried not to wince as the chair beneath him sullenly scraped against the floor. “Um… I don’t know if I want tea actually? It was more force of habit.”

“Me neither.” Yamaguchi’s voice still smouldered at the edges a little. He set the pot down with a clink, and silence settled on them once more like snow, covering the room quilt-like. Tsukishima’s thoughts started racing with reasons why he had to leave _right now_ , some plausible and some not so, the air tangible and quietly crackling as he almost fearfully avoided his friend’s gaze. Yamaguchi’s hand had thoughtfully wandered back to his forehead. Tsukishima opened his mouth to make some excuse (or maybe just to screech into the void of his own awkwardness) and the bandage suddenly came away under the other boy's fingers, the glue worried to nothing, but giving Tsukishima the opportunity to quickly revert back to his trademark scoff.

“Seriously? You’ve had the thing on less than a day.” He shook his head at the limp gauze in his friend’s hand. Yamaguchi blinked at it, falling out of his curious intensity as fast as he’d fallen in.

“I guess I was touching it too much?” He sighed, frowning as he pressed lightly at his forehead. Tsukishima snorted inelegantly at the understatement. “I think we have a first aid kit in that drawer there though.”

Tsukishima, apparently still in ‘nice’ mode, made for the counter slightly quicker than the situation demanded, rummaging through spare sponges and rubber gloves before fishing out the miniscule white box marked with a red cross that had seen better days. Yamaguchi spluttered.

“Alright, it’s not _that_ bad Tsukki. Um. Hello? Is everyone just ignoring me today?” He dejectedly waved the gauze around like a tiny flag of surrender.

In fact ignoring him, Tsukishima deliberated. If the cut really wasn’t that bad, then he could probably dress it himself since he actually paid attention in health class- Yamaguchi did not. However, when he turned to face the table, the dark-haired boy held his other hand out expectantly. Tsukishima eyed the red cross again and sighed- since when was he did channel Florence Nightingale? Since when did he go out of his way to be nice to other people? (Did he even really class Yamaguchi as 'other people' anymore?)

In hindsight, maybe it had just been an excuse to touch Yamaguchi’s face. His comment about the touching earlier was also maybe a little hypocritical.

“It’s okay. I’ll do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some stuff happened last night and i couldn't sleep so behold another chapter... can't vouch for the quality though yikes but it was fun to write! Also i've been awake for over 24 hours please help me


	3. Chapter 3

“I’ll do it, Yamaguchi.”

“What?”

“I’ll just do it, okay? There should be cotton and stuff in here-“

“Tsukki, I can just use the mirror-“

“Yamaguchi seriously, it’s not heart surgery.”

“Yeah but… um, do you know what you’re doing? I don’t want my eye accidentally taken out or something.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes and sat back down at the table. Inclining his head to indicate Yamaguchi should come closer, he fished out a bottle of iodine, cotton, scissors, and medical tape, placing them carefully on the whorled wood of the table top. Yamaguchi inched his chair over to him, awkwardly toying with the scrap of demoted gauze.

“Calm down, it’ll be fine.” Tsukishima waved dismissively at him (although he wasn’t sure if he was talking to Yamaguchi or himself, considering the thundering of his overworked heart). “Is it still bleeding?”

“A little. It’s mostly stopped now, I think.”

He unscrewed the iodine and deftly tipped some into a ball of cotton, Yamaguchi watching him sceptically. He leaned forward, making to brush his friend’s hair out of his face like he’d imagined so many times but then sharply withdrew his hand. He cleared his throat.

“Can you hold your hair out of your face while I do this?”

“Oh, sure!” Yamaguchi quickly complied, blinking expectantly as Tsukishima studied the gash. Like Sawamura had said, it was pretty shallow considering how much it had bled that morning. He tried not to grimace, remembering the faint red streaks marring Yamaguchi’s face. Mentally sweeping the image away, he carefully dabbed the soaked cotton against the wound, and as Yamaguchi flinched away, Tsukishima caught his chin with a free hand without thinking. Inwardly cringing at the intimacy of the gesture, he forced a smirk.

“Don’t be a baby, it doesn’t hurt that much.”

“Says you,” muttered Yamaguchi, pouting a little, and Tsukishima tried not to think about how… how _cute_ that was. And failed. He laughed shakily, daubing the cut with iodine, watching Yamaguchi’s nose crinkle each time he made contact. He was close enough to see every freckle, the fan of Yamaguchi’s eyelashes, his bottom lip chapped where he constantly worried at it with his teeth. Tsukishima’s pulse was drumming, and he hated it.

He concentrated on trying to replicate what he’d seen the nurse do that morning (albeit with more fumbling and perhaps more skin to skin contact than strictly necessary) and as he finished up, Yamaguchi grinned at him.

“Nice job, Doctor Tsukishima.” He patted his forehead as Tsukishima scoffed and quickly started packing up the kit. “With your brains, at least you have med school to fall back on if volleyball doesn’t work out.”

“I don’t think med school is something people usually 'fall back on', Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima allowed himself a small laugh and Yamaguchi’s smile widened infinitesimally. Coincidence.

“So in your _medical_ opinion, do you think it’ll really scar? Like Tanaka-san said? It would be pretty badass.”

“Um you might want to double-check your definition of badass, considering you’d have to explain how you got it.” Tsukishima threw over his shoulder from the counter, sliding the drawer closed after nestling the kit back where he’d found it. “The shrimp is still to blame. You could say it was a fishing accident.”

“Ha ha, Tsukki.”

“Oh my god, there was even a net involved.”

Yamaguchi groaned dramatically, covering his face with his hands.

“Why would you want it to scar anyway? Do you really think girls care about stuff like that?” Tsukishima tried to keep the acid from seeping into his voice, with questionable success.

“It’s not like a little attention wouldn't be nice.” His friend’s grin suddenly snapped back into place, mischievous through his fingers. “You can’t have me to yourself all the time.”

Were Tsukishima a weaker man he would have blushed. A lot. Instead he smirked cavalierly at Yamaguchi, mostly to cover up the fact that he was mentally attempting to stop himself from going into cardiac arrest.

“Don’t flatter yourself man, they can have you.”

“Aw Tsukki you say that but here I am, under your personal care.” Yamaguchi hauled himself up from the table and planted himself in front of the taller boy, who leant back against the counter and wound his arms together nervously. Yamaguchi clasped his hands primly in front of him and tilted his head up. “Care to inspect your handiwork?”

“Not particularly.” Tsukishima muttered, avoiding his gaze. He wasn’t sure how much more contact he could have with Yamaguchi’s skin today without literally becoming a supernova.

There was a pause. Weighted.

“Humour me.” Yamaguchi said. But his voice was different, blunt and almost breathy, and Tsukishima looked up in spite of himself.

Something had abruptly changed; it was quiet again and Yamaguchi’s hands were clenched. Tsukishima was unsure of what to say or do now. The air between them was a tightrope wire stretched to almost breaking and he felt like any small thing could snap it, sending them both plummeting. He studied Yamaguchi’s face- his eyes were full of a weird intensity that was sending small thrills up licking up Tsukishima’s spine and almost beyond his control, Tsukishima’s hand was suddenly reaching out. His chest throbbed as he swept Yamaguchi’s hair out of his face to reveal the bandage, finally plucking the forbidden fruit off the branch, and Yamaguchi’s eyelids fluttered.

He swallowed, hard.

He leant forward.

“Looks fine to me.” Yamaguchi was looking… at his mouth?

“…hm.”

“What, you don’t trust my _medical_ opinion?” His throat felt like sandpaper.

Yamaguchi was definitely looking at his mouth.

Unbidden, his hand trailed softly down to Yamaguchi’s cheek, and his heart was drumming so loud in his ears that he almost couldn’t hear the dark-haired boy’s reply.

“Oh, I trust you.”

The wire trembled in warning. Tsukishima started to lean back.

Yamaguchi clutched at the collar of Tsukishima’s school shirt and yanked him down, kissing him.

And kissing him.

And kissing him.

-

Tsukishima’s mind had gone totally blank, probably a first. Homework, volleyball, any thought that had ever passed through his head that wasn’t about Yamaguchi slipped away like rain through outstretched hands, and _his_ hands were currently tangling themselves through Yamaguchi’s dark waves of hair and it was as if he were in a dream. I’m dreaming he thought, as Yamaguchi sighed into his mouth and the pit of his stomach dropped like a trapdoor. Definitely dreaming he thought, as Yamaguchi pressed against him more firmly and the lip of the counter behind him dug into his back, as if he cared. Okay but could dreams even _be_ this good he thought, as his lips met Yamaguchi’s again and again and again and each pause between them was like a dull ache, only relieved by the balm of Yamaguchi’s mouth against his.

Oh shit he thought, as the scrape of a key and the click of the front door unlocking echoed down the hall.

They stared at each other for a few concrete seconds as Yamaguchi’s mother rustled noisily across the threshold with what sounded like grocery bags. Then, literally leaping apart, Yamaguchi threw himself into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and Tsukishima tried to further the distance by jumping back and smacked into one of the cupboards on the wall. He yelped, clutching the back of his head, and Yamaguchi was halfway out of his chair when his mother bustled into the kitchen and he forced himself back down, a smile plastered on his face.

“H- hey Mum!”

“Oh hello there! And Tsukishima-kun nice to see you, it’s been a while! Are you alright?” She eyed him concernedly as she lugged the bags spilling from her arms to the counter.

Tsukishima made a small bow automatically, still wincing and rubbing the back of his head. “I’m fine Mrs. Yamaguchi, sorry for the intrusion. How are you?”

“Same old, same old! Would be nice if I could get some help with these, though.” She turned her gaze to her dazed son, who stood up hastily, tripped over a chair, and blushed his way to the waiting groceries. “Careful dear, the head injury’s bad enough! I could have just picked you up from school, you know.”

“I’m fine! Totally fine! Like I keep saying, it’s really not that bad, everyone’s just making a big dea-“

“You really need to be careful though Tadashi, especially playing sports. Everyone’s always throwing themselves across the court, it’s so nerve-wracking to watch!” Mrs. Yamaguchi took her jacket off and laid it over the back of one of the chairs, shaking her head slightly. “What did you two get up to instead of going to practice?”

The can of water chestnuts Yamaguchi was holding slipped from his grasp, and he scrambled to the floor but dropped it again. Tsukishima coughed awkwardly, still glued in place by the drawers, trying to look casual but suspecting he just looked suspicious as hell. How did he normally stand? Did he slouch? Did he fold his arms?? Yamaguchi’s mother surveyed the scene curiously.

“Are you sure you boys are alright? You both look a bit frantic.”

“We’re- we’re fine! Um. Just the adrenaline from all the drama this morning probably!” said Yamaguchi brightly, finally having retrieved the can and picking at the label. Tsukishima nodded with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. His entire body was still prickling from contact with Yamaguchi’s and his brain was only starting to reboot after a complete shut-down. He met Yamaguchi’s nervous gaze, caught a glimpse of his reddened mouth, and quickly looked way. He hung to the counter a little desperately as he tried to regain some of his Tsukishima-brand composure; Mrs. Yamaguchi hummed sceptically at them.

“Well, if you say so. Are you staying for dinner, Tsukishima-kun?”

Tsukishima had a sudden and horrific premonition of what that dinner going was to look like. Yamaguchi and he would look anywhere but at each other while his mother hummed a love song to fill the silence, at the very table where he’d patched Yamaguchi up- it was a little more than he was prepared to deal with considering where today had gone.

“Ah… thank you, but my mum’s expecting home soon,” he said lamely. “I should probably start back now actually.” He made a show of checking his watch, and he could feel Yamaguchi’s eyes on him assessing the lie.

“That’s a shame! Maybe next time.” Mrs Yamaguchi patted his shoulder fondly and turned away to reach for an apron. Tsukishima thanked her for having him over before unsticking himself from the counter and hurriedly making for the door, pausing next to his friend. He was still holding the same can.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tsukishima muttered and Yamaguchi nodded evenly in response, meeting his eyes nervously for a split second before returning his attention to the can’s nutrient content. After carelessly pulling his shoes on, Tsukishima wrenched the front door open and had to make a conscious effort from sprinting down the front path. His brain was running back at maximum capacity, and he couldn't tell whether his head was pounding because he’d hit it against a cupboard or because he’d just been _kissed by his best friend._ He turned the thought over and over again in his head: Yamaguchi had kissed him. Yamaguchi. Had. Kissed. Him. And as kisses go, it had been… good. Great. Amazing. Right? It was a good kiss. Not that he had much (or any) experience. The more he tried to analyse what had happened, the details seemed to evade him until he could barely remember them at all. He could only remember the warmth, the heat of Yamaguchi’s body vivid against his, and he broke stride to clutch at his head again. Yamaguchi had kissed him. Yamaguchi had initiated something that he’d simply not had the courage to do because under his snark and scorn, he was terrified of change. Of failing. Of losing the person closest to him because he couldn’t control his feelings, which in itself was appallingly out of character. He was a mess, basically.

When Yamaguchi’s voice rang out behind him, Tsukishima considered lying down on the pavement and letting the ground claim him, but instead he turned around, lowering his hands slowly. Yamaguchi was sprinting towards him, Tsukishima’s school bag in his outstretched hand, and he skidded to a stop a few feet away.

“Tsukki,” he panted. “You… you forgot… this!”

Another endless moment stretched out between them (there had been far too many of these today) while Tsukishima deliberated. He could go with his gut for once and let his bag fall to the side, kissing Yamaguchi again. He could relive Yamaguchi sighing into his mouth and he could close his eyes and stroke Yamaguchi’s face and tell him how ridiculously gay he was for him. Or he could just take his bag and go home.

Because he was a coward, he chose the latter.

“Oh shit. …thanks, Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima reached out and tried to avoid touching Yamaguchi’s hand and as the exchange was made. The other boy was still panting.

They looked at each other. Tsukishima turned away.

“See you.”

As he strode home, he called himself every curse word he could think of twice over.

He realised when he got home that he still smelt faintly of lavender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the gay megane adventures continue after another long pause (i didn't have internet for a month straight i moved house etc i'm just so bad w/ consistent writing tbh ahh)
> 
> everyone has been really kind omg i have so much love for you guys
> 
> i'm also looking for a beta bc i'm just posting blindly atm!!!! hmu @xageyama on tumblr if you're interested


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Tsukishima woke up the next morning, he was granted a few precious seconds where he convinced himself that yesterday was just some strange hormone-fuelled dream. That he could get up and go to school like any other day, that everything would be fine. Then he remembered glancing at an obnoxious clock-face that read 2:00am on his bedside table, and how he had lain in bed for hours waiting for that lightning bolt. He was kind of screwed.

After marching home and muttering to his mum that he had homework to do, which wasn’t exactly a lie, Tsukishima barricaded himself in his room. The scent of lavender still clung delicately to his school shirt, a smell he would now probably forever associate with Yamaguchi (’s mouth on his), so he hurriedly undressed and pulled a sweater on instead.

Slumping onto the bed, he stared blankly up at the ceiling hoping some sign of what to do next would appear on it, or maybe it would open up and God could just smite him with a lightning bolt where he was lying. His hopes weren’t high. His thoughts hulked like storm clouds, although he didn’t exactly know why; Yamaguchi was the one who kissed him, which was probably a pretty good indicator of how he felt about Tsukishima, and yet a pit nestled uncomfortably in his stomach. He had just left, without resolving anything or telling Yamaguchi how he really felt about him. He hadn’t said _anything_. He thought about how that must have looked.

He crushed his fists to his forehead, clamping his eyes shut, picturing how Yamaguchi had stood there in the street as Tsukishima walked away without so much as a glance over his shoulder. He was an idiot.

Apparently it was pretty easy becoming one. Maybe he owed Hinata an apology.

(…nope.)

Later that night, Tsukishima’s phone chirped from inside of his school bag and he dove for it before he could stop himself.

‘ **Yamaguchi**  
Thursday 22:36

_hey i’m really really REALLY sorry about today idk what I was thinking_

_are we okay?’_

He spent the next couple of hours trying and failing to do his homework before crafting a reply.

‘ **Tsukishima**  
Friday 12:01

_yeah don’t worry about it_

_see you tomorrow’_

Idiot.

-

When Tsukishima woke up the next morning, he was granted a few precious seconds where he convinced himself that yesterday was just some strange hormone-fuelled dream. That he could get up and go to school like any other day, that everything would be fine. Then he remembered glancing at an obnoxious clock-face that read 2:00am on his bedside table, and how he had lain in bed for hours waiting for that lightning bolt. He was kind of screwed.

He got dressed and had breakfast in a deadpan haze of calm, the dark outside hardly even bothering him like it did most days. The ordeal of morning practice seemed pretty trivial now and it actually bought him some time before having to face Yamaguchi at school since he wasn’t allowed on the court yet- a small weird blessing bestowed on Tsukishima after all his bitching. He even felt slightly soothed as he walked to school alone, the dark nestling around him in an almost familiar way, his steps making quiet squelching noises on the stone where dew puddled. The cool air that stung on most mornings now felt like it was scrubbing him clean, on his skin and in his lungs; he paused just outside the school gate and he clutched at the damp iron with one hand, inhaling hard. He could do this.

Someone tapped him lightly on the shoulder. He turned, still inhaling. It was Yamaguchi.

The air seemed to trap itself in Tsukishima’s windpipe at the sight of him, and he let out a violent cough. Yamaguchi eyed him nervously as he beat a fist into his chest, wheezing whorled clouds into the crisp air, and his friend stretched out a cautious hand to pat him on the back.

“Morning,” Yamaguchi said, trying valiantly to keep the laughter out of his voice. Tsukishima glared at him to the best of his ability considering he was still choking on his own air. Yamaguchi’s bandaged forehead seemed to mock him, an undeniable badge of evidence; he let out a few more coughs before slowly straightening up, knees weak. “That was dramatic.”

“M-morning, Yamaguchi.”

“What happened? Did the sight of me take your breath away or something?”

Yamaguchi’s hand still warm against his back, Tsukishima was torn between laughing in shock and nearly choking himself to death again. Neither choice was very in character, and in the interest of maintaining the most casual we-totally-didn’t-make-out-in-your-kitchen-yesterday demeanour he could manage, he forced a light scoff and started moving towards the school. Running away. Again. Yamaguchi hesitated for a second before following him.

“Sorry, that was dumb. Thought I’d try and break the ice or something but that just made things… awkward.”

“...mm.”

“We’re really okay though, right? I’ve basically been up all night thinking about how weird that must have been for you, I’m really really sorry.”

Tsukishima bit his lip, eyes fixed in front of him. Yamaguchi had no reason to apologise. He hadn’t done anything that Tsukishima hadn’t been thinking (okay, maybe fantasising) about for the last two years, and he had the right to know. Now. Right now.

“Like I said, man, it’s fine.”

Or not.

“Oh. Okay, good! I don’t want things to change just because I… I mean- wait, you’re not just saying that to be all ‘Tsukki’ about this, right?”

“All _‘Tsukki’_?”

“…yeah.”

“What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! Well… you know. For me it kind of means like, all stoic and stuff. Closed off.”

“Oh, thanks.” As Yamaguchi started to protest, Tsukishima waved him down, relieved. This felt better. More organic. He could do good-natured bickering- he could _do_ this. “Look, the fact that you use my name as a border-line insult aside, everything’s fine. I know where we stand, I’m sorry you were stressing about it.”

They walked in silence for a moment as Yamaguchi worried at his lip. Then his sunlight grin was back, igniting his face and a spark in Tsukishima’s chest. Ugh, he was smitten.

“Good. Thanks, Tsukki.”

“Sure, I guess.” He cleared his throat. They were stepping into the gym now, the familiar squeaks already greeting them despite the fact that the door couldn’t have been open for more than ten minutes. Nishinoya, already in gear, was practicing receives with Azumane while Hinata and Kageyama skulked around them admiringly. “Um why are you here, though? Not being rude or anything, but you can’t exactly play considering your invalid status and all.”

“Just because I can’t play doesn’t mean I need to miss anything! Also, let’s not do the invalid thing again please.” Yamaguchi ducked into the changing room, voice pained. Tsukishima grinned, rebuttal ready.

See? Fine.

-

So, it wasn’t fine. He couldn’t do this. He was still extremely screwed.

The day had started off pretty strong; pre-practice banter in the changing room, keeping his snark to a minimum when it came to the freak duo, feeling the adrenaline buzz through his body when a play went well. But apparently, off-court Yamaguchi was even more of a distraction than his on-court counterpart, something Tsukishima couldn’t have ever seen coming (two words: short shorts). At least when Yamaguchi was on the court with him, his attention was usually elsewhere despite his embarrassing tendency to cheer Tsukishima on very loudly. But when he was sitting on the side, Tsukishima was now constantly in his line of sight and it made Tsukishima feel nothing short of ridiculously self-conscious. He fumbled several blocks purely because he thought Yamaguchi might be looking at him and when they accidentally met eyes, he literally tripped over his own feet and nearly became the latest member of the team with a head injury.

“Feeling alright, Tsukishima? It’s not like you to be so antsy.” Sawamura said, pulling him to the side while everyone took a quick water break. Tsukishima’s cheeks burned. He could see Yamaguchi peering at them interestedly just at the edge of his field of vision.

“Just fine, Sawamura-san. I didn’t sleep that well so I guess I’m just tired.”

“Ah, alright.” The captain patted his back amicably. “Try and get an early night tonight then, don’t burn yourself out.” Tsukishima suppressed an eye roll and nodded obediently. No wonder Nishinoya and Tanaka called him ‘Dadchi’ behind his back, albeit laced with fondness. As Sawamura jogged away, Yamaguchi sidled up from nowhere and took his place, bottle of energy drink in hand. He offered it to Tsukishima, who accepted it with a muttered “thanks”.

“Daichi-san chewing you out? You seemed a little out of it today.”

“Pfft. I’m a little tired, that’s all. Does the team really depend on me that much that I have one off day and everyone freaks out?”

Yamaguchi scoffed at that, and nudged him with his elbow just as he was taking a drink. Tsukishima grimaced as water inevitably dribbled down his arm and out of his mouth, and Yamaguchi launched into full apologetic mode before he’d even said a word.

“Oh crap, sorry Tsukki! That was stupid of me, I’ll grab you a towel-”

“It’s fine, I’ll just use my shirt.”

“But-”

“Yamaguchi _seriously_ , chill out. It’s just Pocari Sweat, it’s clear.” He lifted the hem of his jersey to wipe at his chin, and to his _utter disbelief_ Yamaguchi’s eyes actually wandered to his bare midriff as he did so- apparently, Tsukishima hadn’t been imagining things on the court. Another blush threatening to light up his face, he yanked the jersey down and Yamaguchi’s eyes snapped back up to his. They stared at each other nervously for a few heated seconds before the whistle sounded signalling that practice had resumed, and both boys flinched at the shrill note that cut through the tension between them. Tsukishima cleared his throat and turned to go, scrubbing a hand against his cheek just in case unwelcome red had appeared. A firm hand tugged on his forearm, stopping him.

Reaching up cautiously, Yamaguchi wiped a stray droplet he’d missed from under his chin and Tsukishima’s heart full on skipped a beat at how bold the gesture was. His friend’s gaze was intense as he wiped his damp hand on his school trousers, and he released Tsukishima’s arm. The place he had touched burned.

“Um. Sorry.” He didn’t look sorry. “That was weird wasn’t it, I just-”

“TSUKISHIMA, LET’S GO! SHOW SOME HUSTLE, PRACTICE ALREADY STARTED!” Tanaka’s voice echoed from across the gym and Tsukishima whipped around, breaking into a run to join the others. His shoes squeaked obnoxiously on the linoleum, and the situation felt a little too familiar.

He really had to break the habit of running away whenever things got interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has taken forever to post and it's a short ass chapter i'm so sorry!!!! uni kicks my ass on the daily
> 
> another chapter will be up this week though so bear with me guys
> 
> (my love for tsukishima kei grows stronger every day this has been a PSA)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Could I ask your opinion about something? Something… personal.” 
> 
> His brother’s eyes widened and cartoon stars might as well have appeared in them. Tsukishima sighed.
> 
> “Wait, really? Really?? You’re actually- we’re going to-” Akiteru tried to compose himself despite the fact that literal tears were starting to well up in his eyes, oh god. “Are we about to have a brotherly chat about something not volleyball related??”
> 
> “…not if you’re going to be like this about it.”

After the most stressful and frankly embarrassing practice of his life, Tsukishima spent the rest of the school day avoiding Yamaguchi. He knew it wasn’t exactly subtle, and that it wasn’t sending the best message after everything that had happened, but he was trying. Trying to buy some time to sift through his muddled thoughts, trying to resist the growing urge to just grab Yamaguchi and kiss him in the middle of the cafeteria or something. Hell was real, and he was its newest resident.

By the end of the day, Yamaguchi had apparently decided that two could play at the avoidance game and flat-out ignored him as they left their classroom, heading home without so much as a disappointed glance in Tsukishima’s direction. Which sucked. A lot. Not that he could blame the other boy; Tsukishima had a tendency to run hot and cold at the best of times, and at the worst of times… well. It was probably safe to say this situation qualified. Walking home alone wasn’t something he’d done in a while either, and he’d gotten used to the warmth of Yamaguchi beaming at his side every day. His stomach could have been lined with rocks as he trudged the familiar road home, and he threw himself on his bed when he finally arrived. Nothing had changed since he’d been in the same position yesterday. Except that it was kind of worse.

“Fuck.” He mumbled under his breath. “Fuuuuuuuuck.” He rolled from side to side, flapping his arms uselessly. How could he have ever had the nerve to call anyone else pathetic when he was literally the embodiment of the word? He closed his eyes and sighed a little self-pityingly.

“It’s really hard for me to think of you as cute when you say stuff like that, you know.”

Tsukishima sat up so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, his older brother’s voice stripping back his blanket of self-pity. Akiteru was peering around the open door, brow furrowed.

“How long have you-?!”

“Not long.” He sidled in without invitation, settling himself in Tsukishima’s desk chair. Tsukishima considered kicking him. He decided to exercise some of his infamous impulse control and resisted. Instead, he crossed his legs underneath himself and quashed his pride, gritting his teeth as he said:

“Could I ask your opinion about something? Something… personal.”

His brother’s eyes widened and cartoon stars might as well have appeared in them. Tsukishima sighed.

“Wait, really? Really?? You’re actually- we’re going to-” Akiteru tried to compose himself despite the fact that literal tears were starting to well up in his eyes, oh _god_. “Are we about to have a brotherly chat about something _not volleyball related??_ ”

“…not if you’re going to be like this about it.”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” His brother took a rattling breath and clasped his hands in his lap. “Ask away, brother dear.”

“Brother dea- whatever. Okay. Um.” Tsukishima steeled himself. “If you had a friend… that you had started to like. Like, in a more than platonic way. And then that friend did something that made you think that they- they felt the same way. But then you got really freaked out because of how sudden it was, and just kind of… ran off. Without telling them how you felt. Repeatedly. What would you do to fix it?”

Akiteru didn’t answer straight away, choosing instead to openly gape at him for a few seconds. Tsukishima groaned and tried to smother himself with a pillow, but his brother tugged it from his grasp with little effort.

“You’re having _relationship trouble?_ ”

“You don’t need to sound that shocked-”

“Like, good old-fashioned teenage drama??”

“God, forget it, I should have known you’d be like this.”

“Like what??” Akiteru didn’t even attempt to look offended, clutching the stolen pillow to his chest like a child. “Wow. You have a _crush_ Kei, I honestly thought you were too cool to be, like, pining after someone-”

“Please give me that pillow back so I can beat you to death with it.”

“Okay okay, I’m just teasing! So. Advice time. But on a serious note, this is legitimately the best day of my life.”

Tsukishima shot his brother his most disdainful glare, reserved usually for shenanigans of the Hinata variety.

“Aren’t you supposed to be my _older_ brother or something?”

Akiteru laughed, throwing the pillow back to him. He smiled as he spoke, but Tsukishima could see he had softened a little, addressing him earnestly now.

“I think the best idea would be tell this person how you feel, as soon as you can. I mean, at least you know they like you back, right? Takes half of the problem away.”

“Right… well, it’s easy enough to say that. But there are like- things. In the way. Complicated things.”

“You like them, they like you. What’s so complicated about that?” Akiteru said encouragingly. It was Tsukishima’s turn to clutch the pillow to his chest now. He wondered how much he could say without completely giving the situation away. His hands clenched tighter around the fabric, deciding that his brother could handle it. Hopefully. It wasn’t as if he was ashamed of feeling this strongly about Yamaguchi- it was probably one of his better qualities, and Akiteru was one of the best people he knew. Although he’d never tell him that, just in case he started weeping or something.  He exhaled, hard.

“It’s a guy. On my team. That’s what’s complicated.”

His brother’s smile didn’t waver but there was something about his eyes that became more set, serious. He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms.

“Hmm. I, um- I figured.” he said delicately. Tsukishima froze. “If it makes you feel any better though, I support anything and everything you do Kei, I hope you know that. You’re my brother, and as much as I know you hate me saying it out loud, I love you.” Tsukishima blinked at him, mind scrambling for a reply. He really didn’t give Akiteru enough credit sometimes. A weird lump of unbidden emotion suddenly rose in his throat and he coughed, looking away. His brother’s grin returned, wider than ever. “It’s not just you, to be honest. I know for a fact that certain people on your team are very… close. And aren’t too subtle about it either.” He laughed, the sound ringing around the room like a bell, and Tsukishima spluttered in shock. Akiteru wasn’t exactly wrong, he thought- Sawamura and Sugawara were more married than his own parents, and he’d lost count of how many times he’d caught the freak duo grinning dazedly at each other across the court for minutes at a time. Maybe gay crises were a Karasuno rite of passage for all he knew. His brother peered at him cautiously, trying to gauge his silence.

“…thank you. For listening.” Tsukishima muttered, then cleared his throat awkwardly. Akiteru patted his knee.

“I’m always around for you, Kei. Even while I’m away, just drop me a text or something if you want to talk.”

“I guess you really enjoyed our ‘brotherly chat’ huh.”

“You know it.” Akiteru heaved himself out of his chair, smiling. “I’ll leave you to it then. Good luck with Yamaguchi!”

Tsukishima stomach curled in on itself. “ _What?_ W- when did I say anything about-”

“You’re not as subtle as you think, brother dear.” Akiteru had already left the room, but his glee echoed down the hall. Tsukishima leapt off his bed and slammed the door to punctuate his mortification, and faintly he heard his brother’s laughter joined by his mum’s exasperation at the noise. He stood there for a second, breathing deeply as the cogs whirred in his head; he could wait until tomorrow to see Yamaguchi at school, talk to him at lunch or after practice. He could wait until the weekend so he wouldn’t have to confess his feelings at _school_. Or.

He sat back on his bed and rummaged through the pockets of his uniform for his phone.

‘ **Tsukishima**  
Friday 16:01

_yamaguchi I’m sorry about how much of a douche I was today but I really need to talk to you_

_meet me at that park near school in an hour?’_

He deliberated.

‘- _please._ ’

When his phone hummed with Yamaguchi’s reply a few minutes later, he’d been gripping it so hard that his hands were almost shaking.

‘ **Yamaguchi**  
Friday 16:05

_yeah you were a douche’_

Tsukishima’s heart curdled in his chest. His eyes burned for a second, but then his phone buzzed again almost immediately.

_‘-see you in an hour’_

There was no running away this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how has it been 6 months since i last updated omg and i said it would be a week!!!!!!!! i'm sorry
> 
> again this is short but next chapter will probably be the last bc i feel like i'm more suited to one chapter deals but the fact that people are still reading makes me so happy see y'all in another 6 months
> 
> just kidding  
> (maybe)


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